Presley takes it badly; it is his money, he says, and he can do with it what he likes. ‘I’m getting out of here,’ he shouts. Without telling anyone where he is going, he flies from Memphis to Washington, from Washington to Dallas, then on to Los Angeles, where he has arranged to be met by his new driver, an Englishman called Gerald Peters.
He then takes the next flight back to Washington. In flight, he writes the following letter:
Dear Mr President,
First, I would like to introduce myself. I am Elvis Presley and admire you and Have Great Respect for your office. I talked to Vice President Agnew in Palm Springs three weeks ago and expressed my concern for our country. The Drug Culture, the Hippie Elements, the SDS, Black Panthers, etc. do not consider me as their enemy or as they call it The Establishment. I call it America and I love it. Sir I can and will be of any service that I can to help the country out …
He asks to be made a Federal Agent at Large. ‘First and foremost I am an entertainer but all I need is the Federal credentials.’ He has, he adds, pursued ‘an in depth study of Drug Abuse and Communist brainwashing techniques … I would love to meet you just to say hello if you’re not too busy.’ On another piece of paper, marked ‘Private and Confidential’, he lists his various phone numbers.
Hoo boy. Another conserva-celeb. Who died on his toilet as a result of prescription drug abuse. But loooooved America.